Western Hills

Elizabeth-Ellen Long — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 14:00:57 +0000

A hill, out West, grows lanky and lean,
No soft grass on it, no flabby green,
Sun-tanned, wind-wrinkled, leather-skinned land,
Tough and wiry as an old cow hand.

In lonely silence it rides the range,
Day in and day out, without a change,
Watching over sagebrush, keeping stray
Live-oak trees from wandering away.

From dawn to dark, always astraddle
The gaunt-ribbed desert’s dusty saddle,
Rides the sky’s blue range, rides far and wide
With only its shadow at its side.

November 1, 1952, The Saturday Evening Post

Western Hills The Saturday Evening Post

Spring Song for a Very Young Tree

Elizabeth-Ellen Long — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 14:00:07 +0000

Not quite a tree until this spring,
When birds with straw and bits of string
Declared it ready to take part
In ancient rites about to start.

Not quite a tree until this May,
When birds with secret things to say
Pinned high upon its leafy breast
The old proud emblem of a nest.

Elizabeth-Ellen Long’s Spring Song for a Very Young Tree appeared in the May 12, 1951 issue of the Saturday Evening Post.

Spring Song for a Very Young Tree The Saturday Evening Post

The Saturday Evening Post » Elizabeth-Ellen Long

Western Hills

Spring Song for a Very Young Tree